


Skipping Stones

by masuranas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masuranas/pseuds/masuranas
Summary: Pre-relationship fluff, just a tinge of angst.





	Skipping Stones

He finds her stood on the craggy stones that jut out along the shore of the lake, staring. She's been quiet ever since they drew closer to Redcliffe and though the now-revived Arl seemed to have understood what led to the loss of his wife and even declared them champions of the Arling, it seemed to assuage her guilt no less.

But her gaze isn't in the direction of the castle or the village, instead turned towards the great spire rising from the water in the far distance. When he gets closer she quickly wipes her face with her sleeve, sniffling, as she realises she's not alone.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly and immediately feels like kicking himself. Of course she's not. She shrugs, hugging her arms tight, not looking at him.

“Would you be?”

“No, I...I suppose not.” He mumbles, cowed by the sharpness in her tone.

Sighing wearily, she slowly turns to face him. Her eyes are bloodshot, face puffy and drawn and his heart aches for the thought of her crying out here alone. He knows that pain all too well.

“I'm sorry.” She murmurs. “This is hardly your fault.”

He takes a step closer and he's relieved that she doesn't move away. It's been slow going, but the rapport they'd built up prior to it crumbling around them after the double tragedies of Redcliffe and Kinloch has been restored for the most part, following an evening at the Noble to buy several pints to wash the bitter taste of meeting Goldanna from their mouths, the apologies flowing as fast as the ale. These moods of hers can make the old strain pull a little, though.

A pebble rolls out beneath his boot and he mindlessly picks it up, rubbing his thumb against the flat, smooth surface. Glancing across the water, he smiles inwardly as he remembers an old game he used to play as a boy.

He nudges her gently, jerking his head for her to follow him and leads them to the edge of the water where it washes lightly over the stones.

He demonstrates, leaning into his right shoulder slightly and launches the pebble with an underarm throw where it skips- one, two, three- across the water before sinking. He shrugs, before crouching down to scan the ground for another.

Another small smile creeps across his face when Yana crouches beside him, curious. He finds another and he presses it into her palm before straightening up.

“You try.” He says, nodding encouragingly at the water. She looks between her hand and the water, a little uncertain but soon enough copies his example and lets it fly.

A wide arc, two skips and it drops with a soft 'plink’.

“Not bad,” He says, grinning. “But keep your arm in a little tighter. You want it to snap a bit.”

She picks out another stone, eyes ahead and throws again as per his advice. Five jumps this time. He's impressed, smile widening when she turns to look at him with a brow raised in challenge and lips curled.

_There you are._

So they play on in companionable silence, with the only sound being the slight breeze and soft splashing of the rocks over the water.

He's about to take his next turn when she finally speaks.

“I should ask how you're holding up.”

He hesitates for a moment, lips thinning slightly. Throws the stone in his hand harder than intended and it drops, the spray sending ripples across the lake.

“Me?” He shakes his head all too quickly, busying himself with finding a replacement once more. “I...I'm fine.”

He hears the crunch of wet gravel and sand under her boots as she moves to stand right beside him.

“Oh?” She says, nudging his shoulder with her hip. “Because I got the impression you couldn't wait to get out of there even faster than me.”

Reluctantly, he brushes his hands on his knees and stands up. She offers him a small, sad smile and squeezes his arm.

They move to sit on the larger rocks, Alistair's hands clasped between his knees and he sighs. She reaches for his hand and despite the flush of heat that runs up the back of his neck, he holds it tight in reply.

“I understand that we need everything we've got to throw at Loghain. I just didn't think it'd be _me_.”

“It doesn't have to be.”

“Doesn't it?” Another sigh. “Maybe. Or maybe I need to put on my big boy breeches and stop hiding from the inevitable.”

“Let me ask you something.”

“If it's 'what's the secret to your elegant coiffure', I'm afraid that one will be kept between me, the Calling and the darkspawn.”

She rolls her eyes at him, though smiles fondly.

“ _No_. But I can't help but wonder...what is it that makes you so reluctant to take the crown?”

“I wasn't lying about losing my pants, you know.”

“ _Alistair…_ ”

“Alright, alright.” He takes a deep breath, letting go of her hand to draw his down his face. “It's just... _big_. Really big. An entire country under my command kind of big.”

She nods for him to continue.

“How am I supposed to be king? I'm barely a prince. I don't know the first thing about courtly manners, or...or politics-”

“That's not true.” Yana interrupts. “Your first instinct was to find Eamon and have him rally the nobles to our cause. I wouldn't have thought of it.”

He smiles inwardly at the praise. But his face falls as quickly.

“Even so, that's only because I know him. If I didn't…”

“Isn't that what it's about? Who you know, the connections you make and favours you can call upon in times of need?”

He's thoughtfully quiet.

“I'm not saying it's the right path for you. Only you can decide that, regardless of what Eamon thinks.” She says, turning to face him. “But we both know you're more capable than you let on.”

She reaches for his hand again. It's reassuring, if a little distracting with the way she strokes his knuckles with her thumb. He's been very distracted by her lately. Like the way her hair falls in front of her eyes and the curious urge to brush it away almost overcomes him, until she does it herself. His eyes follow her fingers as she tucks it behind her ear. Is it strange, to think someone's ears pretty? But then again, all of her is pretty. So it stands to reason that her ears should be too. Common sense, really.

“Brave and compassionate, too. None of them bad qualities in a king.”

And he's brought back to reality with a sharp tug, dropping her hand a little more abruptly than he'd meant to.

“You seem more certain of it than I am.”

She shrugs, turning away. “Merely making a point.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees and chin resting on arched fingers. He's too tired to argue for the time being, it'd been a long journey and a longer day.

He wonders what Duncan might have thought of all this. Then again, if he was here, Cailan would likely have survived too and it wouldn't even be a question. It's not a thought he likes to linger on, even now making a lump form in his throat. He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose to will it away and he looks up when he feels her hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be alright, you know." She says softly. "Whatever happens."

He'd like to believe her.

They watch the water for a while longer, sky slowly turning pink as the evening draws on. Beside him, she shivers, though it's not especially cold. Then again, she does insist on wearing those flimsy robes with the half the sleeves missing at the shoulders. They suit her, though.

He looks over at her again and frowns on seeing her eyes wide and a little glazed over. She swallows hard, blinking herself out of her daze.

"Can we leave first thing tomorrow? I don't think I can take being here any longer." Her voice is hoarse and trembles the more she shivers. He nods quickly, unthinkingly slipping an arm around her and she sinks into him, head resting against his chest.

Part of him feels guilty for enjoying it, having her held close like this when she's upset. It's just that she's warm and soft and when he rests his chin on the top of her head, he catches the scent of the oil she uses on her hair; a little earthy and sweet...

She's not shivering now. Instead, she's got her hands curled around his forearm, thumb absently tracing circles over his wrist. It's these little gestures that give him pause, making the yearning he's been so desperately trying to ignore all the worse. Uncertain if there's anything more behind it or if it's just her way of being friendly. She's certainly not shy in showing her affection to the others, but this feels different, somehow.

Slowly, she turns in his arms and looks up at him with a strangely intense stare, the guilty twisting in his belly changing to something lighter but just as disconcerting. Her hand moves from his arm to cup his cheek and it's only when he feels her breath, hot and ragged over his mouth, that he realises he's leaning in.

"Ah! There you are!"

Footsteps quickly drive them apart, flushed and staring hard at the ground.

"We thought supper at the inn might be a welcome change." Wynne says, now stood in front of them and seemingly oblivious to what she's just interrupted. They both nod faintly.

"Well, come along then. Sitting out here in the dark won't get you two fed, will it?"

At her urging, they stand and shuffle along awkwardly behind her, towards camp. He allows himself a brief glance at Yana as they walk and she smiles when she notices, fingers curled around his for a moment. An idea comes to him, one he'd thought useless before but now seems as good a time as any.

He just hopes it's still intact, carefully wrapped in his pack after so many weeks...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just to confirm: Isolde was sacrificed and Irving died in the Tower, so Redcliffe isn't a place Yana particularly relishes coming back to. But maybe there's a happier memory by the end of it. ;)


End file.
